Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1887-02-05
HALLUCINATION.
.4&4A
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HALLUCINATION.
You ask me why I am going to masxyi
] can scarcely dare to confess to you Il
me to this insane course
lam going to marry IN order not to b
alone.
lido not know how to tell it-how to MAKE
myself understood. You will pity me- and
you will despise me when you know In what
q wretched state Of mind I am.
lido not want to be alone any more-at
night. I want to feel some being rear M,
close to me, q being that can speak, say some
thing, no matter what.
Iwant to be able to rouss that being from
sleep, to be able to ask that being any ques
ton suddenly-even a stupid question, 50
that I can feel my dwelling is inhabited-so
that I can know that a mind is awake, that q
reasoning power is at work-so that, il I sud.
denly light my candle, I can see a human
face beside me-because-because chow can
dare avow my shameD-because I am afraid
when I am by myself.
Oh! you do not yet comprehend me!
I am not afraid Of any danger. If q mar
were to come in I would kill him without a
shudder. I have no fear Of ghosts; I do not
believe in the supernatural. I I'm not afraid
Of the dead; I believe in the total ami
hilation Of every human being that passes
away.
Then! Yes. Then! Welt I an afraid
Of myself I am afraid of being afraid,
afraid of the mental spasms that are driving
me mad; afraid of the horrible sense Of in
comprehensive terror.
Laugh if you please! It is hideous; it d
lncurable. I am afraid of the walls, Of the
furniture, of familiar objects which seem to
me u become animated with a sort Of ami.
GIL life. Above all I am afraid Of the hor.
rible confusion of my mind, the confusion OF
my reason which goes from me, all befogged,
~dissipated by some mysterious and inexplic'
able anguish.
First, I feel a vague disquiet that passes
into my mind and makes all my flesh creep.
look around me. Nothingl And l feel q
need of something. OF what? Something
incomprehensible. Then I become afraid,
simply because I cannot comprehend my fear.
Ispeak! I am frightened by my own voice.
I waikiki Then I am frightened by the On
known which is behind the door, or behind
the curtain, or inside the armoir, or under the
bed. And nevertheless I know perfectly well
there is really nothing in any Of those places.
turn round suddenly because I am afraid
of what is behind me, although there is really
nothing behind me, although I know It!
become nervous; I feel the scare growing
upon me; and I lock myself into my room,
and bury myself in my bed, and I hide myself
under my bedclothes; and, covering there,
gathering myself up like q ball, I shut my
eyes in desperation, and thus remain for q
seemingly infinite length of time, oppressed
by the thought that my candle is still burn
ing on the little table beside the bed, and that
I should really blow it out. And I dare mott
Is it not frightful to be in such a condi-
ton!
There was a time when I never felt this
way. I used to go home feeling perfectly
calm. I went out and came in without any
thing to trouble the serenity Of my mind. II
I had then been told what a stupid and ter
rible disease Of fear-of Incredible fear
would come upon me in after days, I would
certainly have laughed. I used to open the
doors in the dark with perfect confidence; I
used to make my preparations for going to
bed quietly, without even boiling myself in.
and I never thought of getting up in the mid
die of the night to see if all the entrances to
my room were strongly secured
The trouble began last year in a singular
way.
1t was in autumn, on a certain damp even
ing. When my housekeeper had taken her
departure, after 1 had dined, I asked myself
what l was going to do. For some time l
walked up and down my room. I felt myself
weary, urreasonably depressed, incapable of
doing any work, lacking even the mental
force to read. A fine rain was m%oistening the
window panes; I was melancholy, all per.
meated by one of those causeless attacks OF
dependency which make you feel inclined to
make a man a to talk to some-
body or anybody in order to shake of the
weight of ones own fancies.
/ felt lonesome. Never before did mydwen-
ing seem t. lie so empty. An infinite and
notwithstanding solitude surrounded me.
What was I to Go? I sat down. Then a ner-
impatience seemed to pass into my legs
1 got up and began to walk again. Perhaps
I was also a little feverish, for my hands,
elasped behind my back, as ones hands often
are when one walks about leisurely, seemed to
burn one another where they touched, and !
it. Then a sudden cold shudder ran
down my back. I thought that the outside
dampness was entering the room, and the
idea occurred to me that it would be well to
light a fire. I lit it; it was the first of the
year. And I sat down once more, watching
the flame. But soon the impossibility OF re-
naming quiet in any one position forced me
to get up again, and I felt that I would have
to 20 out somewhere, to stir myself, to find q
I went out. First I visited the houses Of
three different friends, no one of whom We
at home: then I went on the boulevard, -
solved to find some acquaintance or other
It was dismal everywhere. The wet +de
walks were shining. A watery lukewarsinea
of those lukewarmnesses which never.
theless chill you with sudden shivers, the
weighty lukewarmness Of impalpable rain
seemed to bear down over the whole street,
and to make the gas jets burn YEARLY and
lin.
I walked along sluggishly, saying over and
again to myself: II won't find anybody
talk to-"
Several times 1 looked into all the cafes be-
tween La Madeleine n the Faubourg Pois-
Only misunderstanding people, who
1lu not seem 10 Have o'eA VAn eA'ouSn W
inish what they had ordered, were sitting at
The tables.
1 wandered about in this way for a long
and about midnight I took my way
nome. I was quite calm, but very tired. My
concierge, who always goes to bed before II
o'clock, opened the door for me at once, con-
;rary to his usual habit; and I thought to my
elf: "Hello! some other lodger must have
gone up stairs"
Whenever 1 go out I always double-lock my
loor. This time I found it simply pulled to,
md the fact impressed me. I thought that
perhaps some letters might have been brought
Up stairs during the evening.
went in. Ny fire was still burning, even
enough to light up the apartment. !
,ook the candle in order to kindle it at the